


Unlikely Lovers

by AssassinOfRome



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Families of Choice, I promise this fic is cute and soft, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Inspired by the four part harmony in Falsettos don't @ me, It's just accurate to the 1980s, It's the 80s and everyone's gay, Multi, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Slurs, Professor Qui Gon, Qui Gon has the big LGBT bookstore he deserves, Student Anakin, Student Obi Wan, Trans Padmé
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: For a long time, he’d assumed the card was more trouble than it was worth; the rainbow adorning it had been the first thing to tip his step-father off to Anakin’s romantic inclinations, after he’d snooped around in the wallet, looking for money. But as he held it in his trembling fingers, Anakin couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be holding.The Temple Safehouse, it read, in neat calligraphy; it looked handwritten.Open to all, day or night. Knock three times for entry. Tea available on request.After being kicked out by his homophobic and abusive stepfather, Anakin finds solace in The Temple, LGBT+ bookshop and home for wayward youths. But not even a safehouse can keep out all the worries of the world, and Anakin will need all the help he can get. Luckily, he's got a houseful of new supporters to catch him if he falls.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	Unlikely Lovers

Shivering in a bus-shelter that stank of piss and whisky, with a swollen lip and a black eye, was not precisely how Anakin Skywalker had intended to spend his New Year’s Day, but in truth, he wasn’t exactly surprised. 

The holidays had always been a difficult time for him and his mother, only worsened by the fat lump he’d been forced to call a step-father. Walter was a cruel, ugly man, fonder of his booze and horse-racing than Anakin’s mother. For years, Anakin had endured his jibes and insults – even the occasional beating if Walter was feeling particularly malicious – but Walter had been needling at him since September, and something had to give eventually. The old man had been furious at Anakin for going to university, for wasting the family’s money on some stupid engineering course when he could have found a real job fixing up stolen cars for Walter’s colleagues in the mob. Anakin would have rather died than worked for the Hutts, and he’d said so, pressing his face close enough to Walter’s to smell his stinking breath. That had earned him the black eye. The split lip, and the aching in his ribs, came later. 

Naïvely, Anakin had assumed Walter would leave them alone on New Year’s Eve – it was his habit to end the year falling-down drunk in some bar, or even a casino if he was feeling particularly lucky. But he’d ended the year even more in debt than he started it, and arrived back halfway through Anakin’s annual plea for his mother to divorce Walter’s abusive ass and run away with him. They could hide out at Padme’s; she’d promised them a safe place to sleep as long as they’d needed it. 

Mentioning Padme had been Walter’s last straw, and Anakin’s too, it had seemed. Walter had been against Anakin’s friendship with Padme long before Padme had come out, but since she had started dressing like herself, there had been a string of slurs directed against her that Anakin could no longer bear. 

“If you want to hole up with that dirty little tranny, you go ahead. But there’s no way in hell I’ll allow my wife anywhere near you fucking queers. Get gone, you little fag, before I make you go.” He’d shoved Anakin backwards until he tumbled against the abandoned couch, before thumping an arm hard against his ribs, enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Eyes streaming, and struggling to catch his breath, Anakin could only watch as Walter shoved his mother against a wall, knocking her head against a painting enough for it to tumble to the ground, shattering. “And you – don’t you dare help him, or I’ll break every bone in your body.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Anakin began to rise, but the fear in his mother’s eyes quelled him into stillness. Walter had his hand wrapped around her throat now, squeezing hard. Anakin could see his mother’s nails, bitten almost to the quick, digging into Walter’s meaty wrist. 

“Let him pack a bag.” She managed to gasp out, the statement surprising enough that Walter loosened, and she sagged to the ground. Shmi allowed herself one last long look at her son, before fixing her gaze firmly on the ground. “Don’t want any of his poncy crap cluttering up our apartment.” 

As much as Anakin knew she didn’t mean it, hearing such cruel words tumble from his mother’s lips made a cage of ice clench around his heart. He struggled to his feet, cradling his aching chest. 

“Mom…?” He whispered, not sure what he would have said if she’d been able to reply. But she didn’t, curling in on herself as Walter placed a wet kiss directly on her cheek. Anakin could see the slime of his spit even from a distance. 

“That’s my girl – always having bright ideas.” He beamed, cracked teeth shining despite their yellow tinge. When he turned his gaze on Anakin, they seemed more like fangs. “You’ve got five minutes. Grab your shit and go, and if I see you around these parts again, I’ll pull your tongue out through your arsehole.” 

Stalking into what passed for his bedroom, Anakin took a few steadying breaths. He didn’t know why Walter was so concerned about his belongings; the man had never allowed them many possessions, and the few clothes and mementos Anakin stuffed into his backpack barely took up half the space. He struggled to squeeze in his engineering manuals, but there was no way he could leave them behind; knowing Walter, they’d either be used for cigarette papers, or simply shat on by the disgusting beast. The backpack was heavy on Anakin’s bruised spine, but he hitched it higher, heading out into the living room for the last time. 

What passed for his parents sat together on the couch, Walter’s arm slung around his mother’s shrunken waist. Both held whisky, Walter’s glass overfull whilst Shmi’s shook in her hand. She didn’t look up, even as Walter fixed him with a smug glare. 

“You heard what I said, fag – fuck off.” He waved almost dismissively towards the door, and Anakin felt his blood boil. “What – are you deaf as well as retarded?” 

“I’m-“ Anakin took one lurching step forward but froze as Walter raised his arm, pointing a battered army pistol straight at Anakin’s stomach. No wonder his mother was so pale; the bastard had been pressing the weapon against her hip only seconds before. 

“Fuck. Off. Now.” For the first time that night, Anakin heard the slur in his step-father’s voice and a new chill ran through him. Walter wasn’t a good shot at the best of times, and as the alcohol hit his system, it would only worsen his aim. Any attempt to fight back could get his mother hurt. He stepped back, and swallowed. 

“I will come back for you, Mom.” Anakin winced at the gun returned to its position nestled under his mother’s ribs. Still, Walter didn’t seem like he was going to shoot, his gaze still fixed on Anakin. “I promise.” 

Shmi Skywalker didn’t need to say her last words to her son; Anakin knew what words she would have spoken, as instinctively as he knew the beat of his heart. She’d repeated them enough times, as they’d run from rotten home to rotten home, trying to build a new life for themselves after escaping the grasp of Anakin’s father. Still, he would have given anything to hear her soft voice once more, as he turned away from her, and onto a new life. 

“Don’t look back”, the memory of her voice whispered. And he hadn’t. 

Until now. 

Looking up, Anakin could see that snow had begun to build up outside the shelter, some of it seeping into his shoes. He curled his toes, shuddering, but there was nothing he could do; the thin canvas sneakers he wore were no match for the elements, and he didn’t have enough money for a train fare, let alone true winter shoes.  
The change in his pocket wouldn’t even get him to Padme’s, he thought, as the bus pulled up and a sullen looking driver frowned at him. 

“You coming or staying, kid?” The grey-faced man droned out, not looking away from the road. Anakin sighed, and got to his feet, holding out the money. 

“How far will this take me?” He asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. The man arched a single bushy eyebrow and took the coins. His hands were disarmingly cold. 

“City centre.” He grunted, and Anakin nodded, trudging through the bus until he found an unoccupied seat that wasn’t covered in vomit. Slumping down, he tried to consider his options. 

He couldn’t go back home – that much was obvious. But it wasn’t like he knew any other people in the city; his only living relatives were back in his mom’s home state, and even they wouldn’t take him in after the rows they’d had in Anakin’s early childhood. The only friend who would take him in was Padme, and the bus was pulling him further away from her with every jolt of its uneven wheels. He should have used the money on a payphone; Padme owned her own car, despite her relative youth, and she could have driven to collect him. But using a payphone risked being seen by one of Walter’s cronies, and the bus – though stinking and small – was at least moving him away from that problem. 

He barely spoke to his classmates, so that wasn’t an option; they’d sneered at his battered clothes, and status as a scholarship student, especially when he’d started besting them in every assessment. But the thought of college did trigger another idea, as Anakin reached into his pocket to pull out his battered wallet. There was of course no cash inside – Walter had helped himself to the last of that earlier in the week – but Anakin’s fingers did latch onto a creased, but colourful business card. 

For a long time, he’d assumed the card was more trouble than it was worth; the rainbow adorning it had been the first thing to tip his step-father off to Anakin’s romantic inclinations, after he’d snooped around in the wallet, looking for money. But as he held it in his trembling fingers, Anakin couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be holding. 

_The Temple Safehouse_ , it read, in neat calligraphy; it looked handwritten. _Open to all, day or night. Knock three times for entry. Tea available on request._

____Tea available on request, that made Anakin smile. It was such a Professor Jinn thing to say, not that Anakin knew much about the man, really. They’d met accidentally, Anakin having walked into the wrong lecture hall, and found himself too enraptured by Jinn’s class to leave. He didn’t know the first thing about philosophy, but the way Professor Jinn spoke made it all sound so simple. He’d spent the last of his student loan on his guide to ethics. From that moment on, he couldn’t help himself. He had to know more._ _ _ _

____Eventually, he’d been caught, of course. It didn’t matter how many lab sessions he’d rearranged, or how much of his shifts at the local bar he’d skipped, in order to attend the lectures. Someone had eventually ratted him out; he suspected it was the sneery looking woman who had laughed at him when he hadn’t known what the hell ‘material monism’ meant. But all too soon, he’d been hauled into Qui Gon Jinn’s office, like a common criminal._ _ _ _

____Though his cheeks had been burning as he stood before the man’s weathered desk, he had been calm enough to notice the teapot stood in the middle, steam dancing from its spout. It wasn’t particularly beautiful – its handle had been chipped and there was scuffing on one side – but he liked the colourful pattern. Dots of every colour covered its surface, and he’d been searching for a blue one when Professor Jinn had entered, hair ruffled from the wind._ _ _ _

____“Admiring Bertie, are we?” He’d chuckled, his warm low voice so familiar. Anakin had found himself stuttering, unable to phrase a response. Still, the man had smiled kindly as he’d taken his seat in the large plush chair, pulling the ceramic towards him. “Bertie – the teapot. My oldest and most faithful companion. Would you like a cup? It’s Ceylon today; Ben discovered a new brew over the weekend, and I must say I’m excited to try it. Please take a seat; no need to stand on ceremony around here.” He’d gestured to the other chair, covered in papers. “Put those anywhere – I’m sure I’ll get to them eventually.”_ _ _ _

____“Aren’t you going to expel me, sir?” Anakin had choked out eventually, which made Professor Jinn frown, and gaze up at him. He had a long, hawkish nose that had been broken in several places, and crinkled warm eyes. His hair, tied in a thick braid, thumped against his shoulder as he turned his head._ _ _ _

____“Whyever would I do that?”_ _ _ _

____“For sneaking into your classes without paying.” Anakin winced; he hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but now the truth was out, there was no sense in hiding it. He’d already been struggling for money with his own course, and that was on top of a scholarship. No-one from Anakin’s background would ever be able to afford the full fees for even a term on Professor Jinn’s course._ _ _ _

____“Ah yes. That.” Professor Jinn looked up at him, his gaze steady. Usually, Anakin wanted to wriggle whenever people stared at him, but there was something so soothing in the other man’s eyes; he didn’t rake his eyes about, like the other students often did when they’d latched onto Anakin, taking in his tattered clothes and messy hair. He seemed to study Anakin, but not judge him. After a few moments, he gave a small nod. “Are you a keen student of philosophy, Mr…”_ _ _ _

____“Skywalker.” Anakin swallowed. “And… I don’t think so. I don’t know.”_ _ _ _

____“You don’t know?” Professor Jinn showed his surprise cleanly on his face, a raised eyebrow and a sparkling eye as he leaned forward. “How exactly did you end up repeatedly in my lectures if you didn’t know if you liked philosophy?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know much about philosophy, sir but…” Anakin felt the heat rising in his cheeks. “I liked what you said. About… about how everyone comes from the same substance, so everyone should be treated equally. It felt right.”_ _ _ _

____Professor Jinn nodded, his smile broader now. He allowed the silence to sit as he poured dark brown liquid into two nearby cups and pushed one over to Anakin. The liquid smelt fruity, and the professor took a long slow sip._ _ _ _

____“Ah, Covent Garden blend. Ben does know how to treat me.” He set his mug down, and steepled his fingers under his chin, their tips hiding away in his long grey-streaked beard. “I have no power to expel you, not that I would, of course. Though you must stop attending my classes.” Anakin, who raised his own cup to his lips, choked. The thought of avoiding Jinn’s classes had crossed his mind, but to hear it as reality was almost too much to bear._ _ _ _

____“Of course, sir.” He’d coughed out after too long of a pause, fighting back tears. Between his awful home life, and his miserable university classes, Professor Jinn’s lectures had been the highlight of his week. Still, if it kept him from expulsion, he would have to comply._ _ _ _

____“That does not mean, Mr Skywalker, that your interest – however small – in philosophy need cease.” The man had stood then, turning to his heaving bookshelf. Now that Anakin had paid attention, he could see how cramped the shelves were, creaking under the weight of the tomes that had been lodged there. But Professor Jinn knew their contents intimately, long fingers skating over the spines until he found a well-weathered text, setting it down on the desk in front of him. A few others joined it, slimmer and shinier. They’d barely been read, but together, they formed a nice bundle. When it was all gathered, he patted it like one would a beloved dog, and pushed them towards Anakin._ _ _ _

____“That should be enough to get you sorted. Report back here by the end of the month and tell me your thoughts. And bring an extract of writing – a report should do it. I want to see if you’d be up to scratch for writing essays; I know you scientists aren’t big fans of discursive arguments but-“_ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry, I’m confused.” Anakin took the books in his hands; they were heavy, and his brief tenure working in the university bookshop told him they’d be expensive specialist texts. “Are you… are you still teaching me? After all I’ve done.”_ _ _ _

____“This office is open to all who want to learn.” Those words had sunk into Anakin’s soul, as had the gentle voice that spoke them. Professor Jinn had smiled wryly too, his eyes shining. “Even if they happen to be engineers. I’ll see you soon, Mr…”_ _ _ _

____“Skywalker, sir.” Anakin had been too giddy to be hurt at the need to repeat himself, but the older man had shook his head._ _ _ _

____“Your first name, son.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh. Oh – I’m Anakin, sir.” He held out a hand, hoping his palm wasn’t too sweaty. “Nice to meet you, Professor.”_ _ _ _

____“Nice to meet you, Anakin. I’m Qui Gon.” The handshake they shared had been firm and brief, and left Anakin beaming. After a moment’s hesitation, Qui Gon had opened another drawer in his desk, handing over a small, colourful card._ _ _ _

____“Another gift. Only if you need it, of course.” With that, he had turned back to his books and Anakin had left. He’d not read the card until days later, when Walter had spent most of the evening screaming at him. He’d tucked himself up in his little room and pulled out the books, hoping for an escape, when the card had tumbled onto his lap._ _ _ _

____The Temple Safehouse._ _ _ _

____As the bus jolted him out of his warmer memories, Anakin turned the card over and peered at the address. Some of the tension in his chest loosened as he realised the address too was near the city centre, mere minutes walk away from the university. Shouldering his backpack, he slipped out at the next stop, thanking the driver who grunted back. The snow had stopped, but Anakin’s breath still misted in the wintry air._ _ _ _

____After a longer trudge than he’d been expecting – he’d turned down a wrong street and wandered around aimlessly for too long before realising his mistake – Anakin found himself face to face with 501 Knight Street, otherwise known at the Temple. Anakin wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but he hadn’t been picturing a shopfront. Yet there was something odd about this place – it seemed to sprawl out into the street, though the late hour meant the many labelled crates were empty. The building seemed larger than itself, and tottered at the top like a drunken aunt at a wedding. Its uneven rooftiles made Anakin smile._ _ _ _

____Glancing down at the card to confirm his address, he crept forward to the closed door. No lights were on, but that wasn’t unusual, though he did find himself peering in, hoping to catch a glimpse of the shop’s wares. When this proved fruitless, he stopped, and forced himself to take a few steadying breaths._ _ _ _

____He knocked once. He knocked twice. He knocked three times._ _ _ _

____When only silence greeted him, Anakin sighed, feeling the wind curl around his ribs. He should have known better; the door’s paint was chipped half to death, and its sign hung crooked. Perhaps it was abandoned after all. He stepped down from the porch and turned away into the uncertain night.  
But before he could flee entirely, the door jolted open, a warm cinammony smell wafting out into the street with the golden light. _ _ _ _

____In the doorway stood not Professor Jinn, but a younger, warier man. He too was bearded, but unlike Qui Gon’s inviting shabbiness, this man was sleek, from his styled auburn hair, to his shining leather shoes. He was dressed cosily, in a warm brown cardigan and beige trousers, despite the late hour. A pair of glinting golden reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, highlighting the myriad of freckles dusting his pale, sharp cheeks. He didn’t smile, but glanced between Anakin’s straining backpack and worried face, before cracking the door open further with a long-suffering sigh._ _ _ _

____“Tahl!” He called down into the corridor, where what sounded like a dinner party was being held. “We’ve got another one!”_ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> So... wasn't planning on writing this tonight but... it just sort of happened! I've been struggling to write lately, and today it all just came in a gush so I think it was best to get it down before it all dries up again. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the introductory chapter; I've got a lot of big plans, if there's enough interest. I really liked writing Qui Gon, and I'm excited to add in Ben, Ahsoka, Rex and Cody, as well as any other lovely characters who fit in! Let me know below if there's anyone in particular you'd like to see! 
> 
> Stay safe, look after yourself and your loved ones, and have a lovely day/night!


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